


Divine

by henriettahoney, octoberfeeling



Series: Yours, Mine, Ours [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: "poor baby" gansey, (i hate myself for that tag), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Choking, College Student Adam Parrish, Don't @ Me, Everyone is In Love With Everyone, Feelings, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Jealous Adam, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, No but really, POV Adam Parrish, POV Multiple, POV Richard Gansey III, Porn with Feelings, Ronan Lynch's Hand Kink, Shameless Smut, Smut, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, adam and gansey and ronan oh my, and, and a hair pulling kink, but no actual food description, but not that much angst, everything is fine, gansey has a choking kink, gansey is in love with everyone, good ol res hall sex, korean mukbang, oh i guess there's also, what have we done, why am i still tagging shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 07:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20542187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriettahoney/pseuds/henriettahoney, https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoberfeeling/pseuds/octoberfeeling
Summary: Watching Ronan love Adam is the most divine thing Gansey has ever done.





	Divine

Kissing, Adam reckons, shouldn’t get to him like it does. 

It’s just mouths slotting together. Safe territory. Above the chest, above the waist, above everything that matters. 

Kissing shouldn’t get to Adam like it does, but he can’t fucking help it—not when Richard Campbell Gansey III’s lips are so soft and pliant against his, so willing to follow his lead, and  _ especially  _ not when Ronan Lynch is jacking him off with his right hand, pinching at one nipple with his left, mouth on the other like maybe if he bites gently enough or swirls his tongue over it one too many times it’ll be Adam’s downfall. 

And, honestly? Any contributing factor has about the same potential to get him off right now—kissing included. All he knows with any clarity is that he  _ needs  _ it. Needs to come so badly his stomach hurts. 

He’s starting to fray a little around the edges, to lose his grasp on what’s okay and what isn’t, to forget where he draws the line on what he allows himself to ask for in a base, carnal manner and what he only alludes to in order to spare his dignity. 

Prime example: “One of you just put a fucking finger in me,  _ Jesus _ .”

Not acceptable by Adam Parrish’s standards. 

Judging by the sounds it elicits from them in near perfect synchronicity, however, both Gansey and Ronan wholeheartedly approve. 

“Lean back, Parrish,” Ronan tells him, and Adam shifts further against Gansey’s chest, the hard flush of Gansey’s bare cock pressing into his spine. 

“God,” Adam breathes as Ronan slicks up a finger with an ungodly amount of spit and abandons his nipples, opting to jack him and fuck into him at the same time. “More. Please, Gans, I need—”

Okay. So maybe he’s more than a little gone. 

Gansey gets the message, though, arms encircling him, hands mapping out the expanse of his torso until they land at Ronan’s previously abandoned posts, tips of his middle fingers, due to their advantage in length, reaching his nipples first and grazing over them, torturously slow. 

“Harder,” he says, to anyone who will listen. 

Gansey presses down. 

Ronan presses in. 

Adam sees light. 

He tilts his head back to catch Gansey’s tongue on his again, kissing him like he’s starving, like he’s dying for it, back arching to push into both their hands when it suddenly feels like nothing is enough. 

Gansey’s losing his mind, one hand running horizontally over Adam’s chest to alternate between toying with his left nipple and his right, the other slipping lower to rub the expanse of his stomach, just to touch more flesh, and Adam’s wound so tightly he could cry from the relief. It feels like a massage, physically, but in his head it feels like Gansey soothing him—telling him it’s okay if he’s so desperate he’s uncomfortable, it’s okay if he can’t rein it in, they’ll get him there. 

He whimpers into the wet hollow of Gansey’s mouth, reaching down blindly to grasp at Ronan’s fingers around his cock, because touching Ronan _somehow_, somewhere, always grounds him to some degree, and because he wants more pressure anyway—wants it to verge on painful. 

Ronan swears, but obeys easily enough, and the newfound sensation sends sparks shooting up Adam’s legs. 

“Oh, fuck,” he rasps, head falling back to rest heavily against Gansey’s collarbone, because he’s too wrecked to focus on holding it up anymore. He wants to beg Ronan to fuck him, but, because the deal specifically states that he won’t—“Not yet, not until tonight, we didn’t drive to fucking  _ Massachusetts  _ for half an hour of foreplay before the main event”—he requests, “One more finger, Ro _ , please _ ,” instead, to which Ronan eagerly complies. 

There’s not as much spit this time and it hurts just a little, just enough, and Gansey’s rocking up against his back just to get some friction, probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and suddenly it’s too much, and for a moment, Adam doesn’t know if it’s going to tip into the  _ too much in the  _ right  _ way  _ category, but then it does, all at once, and he’s coming so hard his entire body is in tremors. 

“Don’t stop,” he begs, unsure who he’s speaking to or where he is or whether he’s alive. “Don’t fucking stop.”

He hears expletives—multiple—murmured from all around him, everywhere and nowhere, and then there’s such a heavy, thrumming pressure inside him that it licks its way up his insides like fire. 

His only thoughts, neither fully formed nor coherent, are,  _ I’m coming again,  _ and,  _ I’m going to be  _ so  _ sore.  _

Then there’s nothing. 

When Adam comes to, it’s to Ronan running a cool cloth over his extremities and Gansey peppering his face with soft, minty kisses. 

“Hey,” he says, peeling his eyelids apart. 

“Hi,” Gansey answers, pressing one, final kiss to his lips before righting himself to let Ronan step in. 

“You okay, Parrish?” he asks, lifting Adam’s top half off the bed to hold him against his chest. 

“Mhm,” Adam manages, bringing one hand up to brush over Ronan’s cheek. “Your turn?”

Ronan chuckles, low in his chest, and squeezes Adam just a little tighter. “Not yet. Get your shit together for a minute, at least. And, actually, I’m starving. There any decent food around this shithole?”

Adam scoffs and rolls his eyes, but admits that there’s a good Korean place a block from campus, so Gansey and Ronan help him dress before dressing themselves and then they head out of the residence hall.

It’s a beautiful day—sunny and crisp, and just cool enough that Gansey can get away with wearing one of Adam’s burgundy Harvard hoodies under the guise that he wouldn’t be warm enough in just his polo. 

The walk to Han Woo Ri isn’t a long one, for which Adam is grateful, because he was right—he  _ is _ sore—but it’s far enough that he can point out a couple of the buildings he has classes in to Gansey and Ronan, to which Gansey responds with unbridled enthusiasm and Ronan pointedly does not care.

When they arrive at the restaurant, they order their food to go, and as they’re standing next to the door waiting, someone comes up behind Adam, startling him with a hand on his lower back and a cheery, “Hey, Parrish!”

Adam jolts and turns his head, heartbeat wild, but immediately relaxes when he locks eyes with the culprit, an easy smile spreading over his face. 

“God, you scared the shit out of me. Guys, this is Emmett. He’s in developmental psych with me. Emmett, this is Ronan, my boyfriend, and this my best friend, Gansey.”

Gansey grins.

Ronan bares his teeth.

“Wow,” Emmett says, very openly staring. “Was everybody from your hometown grown in a pod? You’re all unreal.”

“Oh, yeah.” Ronan steps closer to Adam, twining their fingers together. “Whatever they’ve been feeding you about factory farming in the south is bullshit. They’re just harvesting models.”

Finally, Emmett drops his hand from Adam’s back. “He’s funny, too? Find me one.”

“Gansey’s single,” Adam jokes, and then wishes like hell he hadn’t. 

Gansey’s entire face flushes.

Emmett raises a brow.

Adam feels something ugly and dark twist in his chest.

“Number 1439?”

“That’s us,” Gansey practically yelps, raising the receipt in his hand almost triumphantly, as though it’s a ticket for a train that’s departing right the fuck now. Which, to be fair, it may as well be. 

Ronan darts forward to grab their bags, and Adam tosses a wave and a, “Good seeing you, Johnston,” over his shoulder to Emmett as he’s dragged out the door. 

When they return to his room, Adam hasn’t had time to process why he’s doing it before he’s got Gansey pinned against the wall, lips on his neck. 

“A-Adam,” he chokes out, hand flying up to so, so softly caress the back of Adam’s head, asking  _ why _ without asking. 

“Let him,” Ronan says. Adam can’t see him—can’t pull his attention from Gansey’s silky skin under his mouth—but it sounds like he’s smiling. “He’s jealous. Aren’t you, Parrish?”

Adam makes a noise, and he isn’t even sure what it is. Maybe he’s confirming, maybe denying, maybe he’s just angry that everyone in the room is still fully clothed. 

“Funny, ‘cause I didn’t like the way that nerd-jock hybrid piece of trash was looking at Adam. But Adam  _ really  _ didn’t like the way he was looking at you. Even if he set himself up for it.”

Adam surprises himself, then, by turning on his heel and explicitly commanding Ronan to shut his fucking mouth. 

Ronan licks his lips and grins wider. 

“Didn’t like the way he was looking at you, either,” Adam says, quieter now. “But he knew he couldn’t have you. I don’t even know why I said—I mean, it’s  _ true _ , but—”

“It’s all right,” Gansey tells him, tugging at his fingers. “I wouldn’t. I don’t want—not right now. I wouldn’t.”

Something in Adam deflates a little at that, like he’s relieved, even if he doesn’t have any right to be. 

“‘Course not,” Ronan says, casually, as though it means nothing. As though what he’s about to follow up with is public knowledge—just a common fact that he’s needlessly reiterating. “Being in love with Adam Parrish kind of ruins you for anyone else.”

* * *

Dinner is decidedly uncomfortable. After Ronan’s declaration, Adam places the takeout bag onto the tiny dorm room desk with such force it’s astounding nothing spills. It seems to Gansey that Adam has completely shut down. Head tucked, fists clenched, expression closed off and far away. Gansey worries he’s done something terribly wrong. Come between Adam and Ronan somehow, which is the  _ last _ thing he ever meant to do.

But that doesn’t make sense, because Ronan’s grin is just as wide as ever as he happily removes the lid from his food and settles in to eat.

Gansey doesn’t know what to think. His appetite is nearly gone at this point, but he takes nervous bites anyway, just for something to do with his mouth that isn't talking. Because he knows, he  _ knows _ he’ll make it worse if he talks.

So. No one does. Everyone just eats their food in silence, steeping in the horrible awkwardness of words unsaid, thoughts unshared.

Ronan is the first to speak, and nothing he says does anything to explain his inappropriate grin. “Alright. I’m gonna go downstairs to the vending machines and grab something to wash this down with. It’s gonna take me about seven minutes, including elevator rides both ways. You two,” he gestures between the two of them theatrically, “are gonna talk.”

Neither Adam nor Gansey says a word. Gansey looks Adam’s way, but his gaze is pointedly not returned. He has definitely messed things up.

“Great,” Ronan continues, “Okay. See you in about seven minutes, then.” He gets up from where he was sitting with them on the floor and makes his exit.

One minute is wasted with both of them frozen.

“Adam, listen I—” Gansey starts but falters and stops short when he finds Adam’s hand suddenly grasping his own.

“Is he right?” Adam’s eyes are locked on Gansey’s now, and a small, cowardly part of him wishes they would return to the floor. But he won’t listen to that part, and he holds Adam’s gaze while he nods slowly in response to his question.

“For how long?”

Gansey sounds shyer than usual when he responds, “A while, I suppose.”

“What does that mean?”

“Remember when we would mess around in high school? The three of us?”

“Yes. Then?”

“I don’t know. Yes. I didn’t know how to put it into words. I didn’t… I didn’t think I could… didn’t think I was  _ allowed _ to be… in love with both of you.” His voice drops even lower on the last six words. 

“ _ Both _ of us.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“But the last thing I want to do is come between you and Ronan and if that’s what this is doing then I’ll just make my way home and we never have to talk about this again and I’m so sorry and—” Gansey can feel his thoughts and words stumbling into each other in his rush to get them all outside of him, and everything is becoming sort of blurry so he can’t focus on Adam’s expression. He realizes too late that  _ tears _ are the reason behind the blur, when suddenly Adam’s calloused thumb is wiping them gently away.

Adam’s face has softened significantly in the last few moments, and his thumb is still on Gansey’s cheek, and an angry pit of murderous creatures resembling butterflies has wrenched itself open in Gansey’s belly.

Then Adam’s lips are on Gansey’s, fast and urgent but still gentle, tentative, questioning. Gansey responds after a heartbeat’s worth of confusion by deepening the kiss, licking into Adam’s mouth and eliciting a gorgeous sound he would like to hear on repeat for the rest of his days. Up until this moment their hands had still been folded together between them, but now Adam’s hands race to Gansey’s nape, combing up into the fine hair there and tugging ever-so-slightly.

The door opens to reveal Ronan looking not-at-all-surprised, just as Gansey moans softly at the gentle pulling sensation driving him crazy.

“So,” Ronan says evenly, clearly just barely containing laughter, “You two clearly did a lot of talking.”

“Some,” Adam responds, a little breathless.

“And…?”

“And talking can wait,” Adam says, now in a strong and clear voice that Gansey understands to mean that it’s time to move from the floor back to Adam’s bed. Ronan’s eyebrow lifts, but he knows exactly what is expected of him and he offers to help Gansey stand. He does, and Ronan holds onto his hand while they walk the few steps to the bed. He only lets go when they’ve both sat down on the edge of the mattress, as if he’s worried Gansey will lose his balance without his support. Perhaps he would. He hasn’t really done a full inventory of all that he’s feeling right now, and he’s fairly certain he doesn’t currently have the capacity for it.

“I’m going to clean this up. Ro, you just keep taking care of Gansey, hmm?” Adam sets to work packing up the leftovers and finding space for them in the minifridge. Ronan sets to work on his task. He turns to Gansey with a look that is at once fierce and wondering.

“What do you need, Gans? Talk to me.”

“Touch me. Anywhere,” is the most eloquent request Gansey can come up with.

“Above the waist,” Adam reminds them.

Ronan places his hands squarely on either side of Gansey’s ribcage and guides him to lay back against Adam’s pillow, then leans over him and places his lips at the most sensitive spot between Gansey’s neck and jaw, just below his ear. At just the slightest whisper of contact, Gansey releases a sound he has no control over, then Ronan nips at his skin and he whimpers, high and needy. Ronan trails his fingertips up and down Gansey’s sides, feather light and teasing. Gansey arches his back and feels himself hardening at just this softest touch. In his usual state of mind, Gansey would have the good sense to be embarrassed about the speed at which he became aroused, and more worried about the confession he just made to Adam, but his current state is all need without logic.

When Adam joins them on the bed, it’s between them and the wall, putting him directly in Gansey’s line of sight. He feels his heart stutter under the weight of Ronan’s body and Adam’s heavy-lidded gaze on him. 

Adam’s hand travels up the sheet, across Gansey’s bicep, and onto his chest, and when Ronan drops his head to kiss it, lips trailing like a prayer over skin, Gansey understands with a new urgency the dynamic behind Ronan’s infatuation. Not only is it a beautiful scene, as Ronan’s mouth on anything is, but the reaction it draws from Adam is enough that he wants to beg Ronan never to stop. And the reaction  _ Adam’s  _ reaction draws from Ronan... 

Well. 

Ronan’s tongue skates delicately through the valley between Adam’s pointer and middle finger, and when Adam breathes, “Ro,” voice already strained and tight and desperate, Gansey feels the vibration of Ronan’s wordless response through his chest accompanied by his steady hardening against Gansey’s thigh. 

They’re still fully dressed—all of them—and Gansey wants to ask for less fabric and more flesh, but he doesn’t trust himself, as rapidly as he’s losing his mind, to make a request that doesn’t sound like a demand. And demands are not his place. 

Not that he would want them to be. The way he feels when Adam directs gentle, imperative questions at him, like—

“Hey, Gans? I need you to do something for me, okay?”

—like  _ that.  _ It’s an indescribable sensation. Gansey shivers and nods his head because it doesn’t matter what it is; there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for Adam. Especially now. Especially like this. 

“You said before that you wanted to watch Ronan and I,” Adam continues, leaning in just a little closer, just enough to nose at the hair over Gansey’s ear. 

Gansey is not going to hyperventilate. He’s  _ not.  _

“Yes,” he answers, because Adam expects him to. 

“Do you still want that?” Adam asks, nothing more than a whisper. 

Ronan has gone still over him, waiting. 

“Yes,” he repeats, and wishes it didn’t sound so much like a whine. 

“Good,” Adam says, gracing him with a single kiss, full on the mouth, before pushing himself up to sit against the wall. “I want you to bring my desk chair next to the bed and sit on your hands. Don’t move them—not to touch us and not to touch yourself—until I tell you it’s okay. Do you understand?”

Though Adam’s words are authoritative, his voice is as honey-smooth as ever, softer than Gansey’s ever heard him speak to anyone save for himself and Ronan. 

“I understand,” he echoes, and allows himself a split second to mourn the loss of Ronan’s warmth as he rolls onto his side before climbing off the mattress to do as he’s told. 

Adam watches him until he’s seated on the wooden chair, hands beneath himself, and then sets his sights on Ronan, who’s lounging languidly in Gansey’s previous position. 

“Hey, Parrish,” he says, half his teeth flashing in a one-sided, wolfish grin. 

“Hey,” Adam answers, slotting one of his knees between Ronan’s thighs, half on top of him just because he has room to be. 

Gansey isn’t sure if he’s going to make it through this. His pants are growing more uncomfortably tight by the second and nothing is even  _ really  _ happening yet. 

“We’ve taken our time plenty today,” Adam says, and something about it is almost funny. Gansey wonders, absently, if he’s been around Ronan too much—if that’s why Adam’s obvious reference to having been edged for near two hours earlier in the day sparks something akin to amusement in Gansey’s chest. “If he wants a show, let’s give him one.”

What happens next knocks the breath from Gansey’s lungs in a nearly inaudible, “ _ Oh _ .”

In a swift, fluid motion, Ronan braces Adam’s back with both arms and flips them so that Adam is pressed into the bed, Ronan hovering over him, mouth already on his neck. 

“Okay,” Gansey hears him mutter, low and muffled. “Let’s give him a show.”

Gansey doesn’t believe his mind can be on the right track, here. What he thinks is happening can’t be happening. In all the time they’ve spent in situations like this, he hasn’t witnessed anything but Adam dominating. He’s seen Adam  _ bottom _ , sure, but not  _ once _ has Ronan actually taken control in front of him. 

He waits, breath held, for Adam’s reaction. 

It’s hesitant, and then all at once, it isn’t. Adam lets out an airy, melodic laugh, and nods his head. “All right,” he says, fingers curling over Ronan’s hip. “Do what you want.”

What Ronan wants, apparently, is Adam undressed, which Gansey is thanking the heavens for because it’s exactly what he wants, too. Ronan has him fully naked in a matter of seconds, not bothering to make it an event or take it in strides, and settles down next to him, on his right, so Gansey will have a clear view and Adam will be able to hear him well. 

“This isn’t fair,” Adam pants as Ronan hooks a hand under his knee and drags it toward himself, putting a decent bit of distance between his legs. 

It  _ isn’t _ —Gansey agrees. It isn’t fair by any stretch of the imagination that Adam is splayed out before him without a scrap of clothing and he’s willingly agreed to sit down and shut up. But he knows it will be worth it. It already is, watching the way Ronan’s watching Adam, like he’s the Hope Diamond and Ronan is about to pull off the world’s greatest heist. 

“Tough shit,” Ronan says, which Gansey mentally translates to  _ I’m not taking my clothes off yet, you told me to do what I wanted.  _ “Drop your control freak bullshit for five whole minutes and just relax. I’m gonna make you feel so good our boy will feel good just watching.”

_ Our boy.  _

Gansey’s already twisting his hands beneath himself, fighting to keep them in place. How is he supposed to handle something so intimate from  _ Ronan Lynch  _ without the solidity of touch? How is he supposed to digest it like the tangible thing it is without the brushes of fingertips to coax it down into his stomach? 

He doesn’t comment on it because he doesn’t know what he would say, doesn’t know what the  _ right _ thing is, but he tucks it neatly away to be addressed later.  _ Maybe _ , he lets himself consider, but nothing more, because Ronan has begun bringing his promise to fruition, working his lips across Adam’s chest and leveling his right hand with his face, working over both Adam’s nipples in tandem and prompting Adam’s back to arch off the mattress. 

“ _ Jesus _ ,” Adam chokes out, and Gansey thinks it might be the holiest thing he’s ever heard. “Warn me.”

“And give you time to convince yourself not to react?” Ronan pulls off to ask. “No thanks.”

Adam starts to respond and groans instead, fingers curling into his own hair as Ronan sets himself back to his task. Gansey wants to point out that he has  _ plenty _ of hair for Adam to pull, thank you kindly, but reminds himself that he signed up for this. He asked to observe, so he’s going to observe. It’s just that he may have imagined he’d be pleasuring himself during the process, and sitting still is already becoming surprisingly difficult. 

Adam’s moved on from the hair, anyway. He has his left hand fisted in the sheet, nails of his right digging with what little purchase they offer into Ronan’s shoulder. Ronan is working more quickly than Gansey’s ever seen him do, chin already tilted back up toward Adam’s jaw, fingers already wrapping loosely around him, coaxing a quiet, “ _ Fuck _ , yeah,” out of him that has Gansey spreading his legs as far as he’s able in search of some minimal amount of relief. 

He doesn’t realize he’s made a sound until both Adam’s and Ronan’s eyes are on him, and when he catches them he stutters, “Sorry, I—I’m sorry. I just—”

“Poor baby,” Adam practically purrs, tongue swiping slowly over his bottom lip, Ronan’s touch drawing out a sweet, lilting groan in the undertone of his voice. “I don’t think this was what he meant when he said he wanted to watch, Ro.”

Ronan’s smirk is merciful and teasing, and Gansey closes his eyes for the briefest moment, just long enough to send a quick thanks to whatever’s out there that Ronan isn’t feeling too ruthless today. 

“What do you think?” Ronan asks, and then twists his wrist a little more sharply, causing Adam to buck up into his hand. “Should we let him take his pants off, at least?”

Clearly, whether Ronan is in control of Adam or not, he knows he isn’t in control of the entire situation. Adam contemplates for a moment and nods his head, eyes locked on Gansey’s as he says, “Nothing else. Not yet. If you take them off and— _ god _ —if you take them off and don’t touch yourself for another couple minutes without sitting on your hands I’ll let you go wild. Just show me you can.”

Gansey feels himself flushing—feels heat rising from his chest all the way to his face so quickly it’s like a head rush—but forces himself to mechanically do as he’s told, sighing at the release of pressure and forcing himself to flatten his hands on his thighs. 

“Always so good for us,” Adam moans. 

“For  _ you _ ,” Ronan corrects him, unknowingly errant, and then, “Want me to fuck you?”

“Yeah,” Adam answers in a breath, hitching his right leg over both of Ronan’s to give him better access. “Please.”

Gansey’s world is upside down. His fingers twitch against his leg and it’s a physical battle to keep them in place, but he does.  _ Only a couple of minutes _ , he tells himself.  _ Adam would never ask for more than you can take _ . 

That couple of minutes, though, is going to be the death of him. 

The sight of Ronan’s pale, slender middle finger disappearing into the hollow of Adam’s mouth is almost more than he can take on its own, but once it’s re-emerged, once Ronan relocates it  _ lower _ , hidden from Gansey’s view by Adam’s left thigh, he really can’t be sure he isn’t going to lose it right then and there. 

“Oh my god,” Adam whines, throwing an arm over his eyes. “You’ve already done this once today. I can handle more. Come on.”

“I’m not gonna tear you up, Parrish,” Ronan says, resting his free hand on Adam’s lower stomach, thumb rubbing slowly over the visibly tight muscles there. “Yeah, I’ve already done this once today, and it was  _ rough _ . Just give me a damn minute.”

Watching Ronan love Adam is the most divine thing Gansey has ever done. He knows so with such a certainty in that moment that unbidden tears spring to his eyes, and he blinks them away, but doesn’t dare lift a hand to brush them off. If he moves now, there’s no telling what he’ll do. 

Blessedly, that’s the exact moment Adam says, “Go ahead, Gans. Over your underwear for now, though. I’ll—I’ll tell you when you can— _ Jesus—” _

“It’s okay, Adam,” he says, because it feels  _ right,  _ like it’s what Adam needs to hear. Adam makes a sound, something like a wild, relieved sob, and Gansey can’t keep his hands off himself a moment longer. 

It’s interesting, if he lets himself think about it in detail, the way his relationship with sex intersects with the type of person he is overall. It’s just as methodical as anything else. Not quite a means to an end, but a process, undoubtedly. He knows, on a base level, what it does to Adam and Ronan to watch him touch himself—both because they’ve told him and because he can see it in the way they look at him; in the way looking at him makes them move. He wouldn’t consider himself a sexual being, necessarily—wouldn’t consider himself  _ hot _ , the way Ronan likes to tell him he is when he’s so out of his head he can’t stop himself, but he knows what he looks like, and he knows he isn’t unattractive. 

It’s just that he can’t imagine it’s anything in comparison to  _ this.  _ What’s before him right now. 

Adam is pressing down against Ronan’s fingers (there are two now; Gansey can see flashes of them slipping in and out of Adam’s body if he tilts his head just right) and Ronan’s irises are nothing but rings of ice encasing his lust-blown pupils. 

Gansey’s cupping himself and squeezing just gently enough that it might feel like teasing if it were coming from someone else, but here, now, it’s about nothing more than moderation and control. If he gives himself any more than this, he won’t last long enough to get involved—and he has suspicions that he’s going to get involved. 

“Do it,” Adam says, and Gansey isn’t sure, until he nods toward him, whether Adam is speaking to him or Ronan. “Just fucking—god. I need to see you. Just.”

“Okay,” Gansey assents, slipping his underwear down his legs and kicking them to the floor. He’s still wearing Adam’s hoodie, and part of him feels awkward with half his clothes still on, but a bigger part, a part that wants the illusion of Adam closer than he is, doesn’t want to take it off. And something tells him Adam doesn’t mind. 

He doesn’t think too much about it when he starts stroking himself, just focuses on the way Adam’s eyes are trained on him, the way Ronan’s working Adam open wider, slow and careful all the way. 

“That’s enough,” Adam says—to Ronan this time—but it doesn’t get him anywhere. 

“I told you, I’m not fucking tearing you up,” Ronan repeats, pressing a kiss to Adam’s chest. “It’s gonna take as long as it’s gonna take, and you’re gonna have to calm down if you wanna get anywhere. You’re too tense.”

“I can’t help it,” Adam complains. “Not when—”

“You need him over here?”

Gansey expects a protest. For Adam to say this wasn’t what he meant, that he just wants Ronan to hurry up, that he can’t relax because he needs it too much—a common Adam Parrish occurrence. 

Instead, he whispers, “So bad.”

Ronan raises his free hand and, with two fingers, beckons Gansey over. “We’ll get back to the voyeurism later,” he assures him. 

Gansey wants very much to tell him that he would rather die than be subjected to watching them without touching them for another sixty seconds, but he doesn’t want to waste the time, so he simply stands and closes the short distance between himself and the bed in the space of a heartbeat. 

Before he’s even fully settled himself onto the mattress Adam has taken hold of the fabric of his own hoodie and pulled Gansey down into a kiss, soft, bitten-off moans slipping past his lips with every outward breath. “God,” he manages, and, yes,  _ finally _ , he’s grasping at the hair at the base of Gansey’s neck, tight enough to pull; tight enough that Gansey feels his cock twitch against Adam’s hip. “Ronan, please.  _ Please _ .”

“Easy, baby,” Ronan soothes, and Gansey is  _ going to die _ . “You’re opening up so good for me. Focus on Gans and give me just another minute. Almost. I swear.”

Gansey isn’t sure, in this instance, if what Adam needs from him is  _ less  _ or _ more _ . He  _ thinks _ the answer is more, but Adam’s too much/not enough line is unreasonably thin, so to keep from crossing it, he restricts himself to kissing and nothing else. 

That, it seems, is enough for Adam. He pushes into it like he’s on fire and Gansey is water, hands on him everywhere, working their way lower and lower until—

Nothing. 

All of a sudden Adam’s touch is nowhere, and Gansey’s head snaps up without his permission, desperate for the contact to return. 

Except, when he glances down, he understands. 

Adam’s bowed half off the bed, mouth open in a silent exclamation, both hands curled into fists at his sides. 

There’s a bottle of lube partially hidden in the folds of the comforter, along with Ronan’s discarded boxer-briefs and jeans.

And Ronan is inside him. 

“Breathe,” Gansey encourages Adam, because if he doesn’t say something he is absolutely going to burst. Really, though, he can’t blame Adam at all. Not that Ronan’s ever been inside  _ him _ , but he imagines he’d have just as hard a time handling it. Just the solid flex of his chest as he concentrates on keeping his pace steady enough not to hurt Adam is so much Gansey almost averts his eyes. 

“You okay?” Ronan asks, touching his forehead briefly to Adam’s, and now Gansey wants to look away for a different reason. 

“Yeah,” Adam tells him, and then his hand is  _ on  _ Gansey, not just  _ close _ again, not just  _ leading up to something _ , and Gansey’s entire mind goes blank. 

It’s an interesting sensation, not to be thinking anything while you’re feeling  _ everything.  _ Time slips away, and Gansey can only measure it in increments of who is where and doing what. 

Adam’s hand is on him, and then there’s a beat, and Ronan’s is. 

Beat, and Adam’s biting down on his collarbone. 

Beat, and Ronan’s working a finger inside him, and Adam is jacking him off, and he thinks he hears Adam say he’s close, but he can’t be sure, because his own hand is clawing its way up his torso and clamping down on his throat and his world is exploding into light. 

He doesn’t quite lose consciousness, not like Adam did before, but this feels just as much like coming to as coming down. 

When his senses refocus, Adam and Ronan are both peppering kisses over his nose and cheeks and forehead, wide, gorgeous smiles plastered over both their faces. 

“Do you have any idea what you just said?” Adam asks, fondness and amusement warring in his tone. 

“No,” Gansey rasps, mind suddenly alert and whirring. He wants to know, but he really,  _ really _ doesn’t want to know. “I don’t—I don’t remember saying anything.”

Adam laughs at that, head thrown back, and Ronan tells him, “Verbatim, it was, _God,_ _I love you so fucking much, fuck, fuck_, and then one last _fuck_ just loud enough for the entirety of the residence hall to hear you. So, to sum up, I was right. Very much in love with Adam.”

Gansey watches Adam’s smile fade as those last words sink in, but not into something perplexed or sad or anxious, just into something more serious.

“Actually,” he says, taking Ronan’s hand in one of his, Gansey’s in the other. “About that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, here's this! I'm so, so glad people asked for this continuation and gave me the opportunity to work with EJ, the love of my life and The Resident Gansey Enthusiast of the screaming server. This would have been nothing without her. Also, this isn't all, so stay tuned for more! We've decided we love collabing too much to stop. If there's anything you'd like to see in the continuation, please feel free to drop a comment and let us know! We love you all so much! Thank you for reading!  
-Em
> 
> I’m collabing with Em for the rest of my TRC fanfic writing career bc she was my favorite writer in the fandom even before we became friends and now she’s the love of my life and I’m so thankful for her  
-EJ
> 
> TUMBLRS:  
EJ - octoberczerny.tumblr.com  
Em (currently inactive) - themagiciansthief.tumblr.com


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